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Yet she must know he spoke the truth.

She didn’t have a choice.

With the horses, they could cut through fields and take shortcuts a coach could not manage.

Layton removed his dusty bicorn hat and swiped a gloved hand across his forehead.

“I’ll take care of the coachmen. A hefty bribe will encourage them to take a turnpike in the opposite direction.” He eyed the coach. “Luggage?”

“None.” Thank God for that small favor. “But there is food, a blanket, and a canteen inside the coach. We’ll need those.”

Layton grunted and nodded before retrieving the items and then approaching the curious drivers and murmuring to them beneath his breath.

Eyes wide and worried, Beatrice nervously licked her lips again.

Cassius narrowed his eyes.

She looked feverish.

Was she up to the hard trek ahead?

She must be.

The sorrel mare snorted and tossed her head.

“I’ve never even sat on a horse, Cassius,” Beatrice murmured, eyeing the horses with undisguised dismay.

Sighing, he placed his hands on her shoulders. She was delicate, but not frail.

She didn’t feel overly hot either.

“I promised to keep you safe, Beatrice.” He searched her vulnerable face. “Do you trust me?”

She was silent for a long moment, then gave a single nod. “Yes.”

Layton returned to their side just as the coach rumbled away.

Cassius vaulted onto the bay gelding, then gave his brother a nod.

Before she could protest, Layton grasped her by the waist and lifted her into Cassius’s waiting arms.

He plopped her sideways atop his thighs, effectively silencing her little shriek of terror.

She promptly wrapped her arms around his waist, clinging to him as tightly as a barnacle to a ship.

Layton secured the food and other items to the riderless horse. “We can rotate horses. That should allow us to ride longer.”

Cassius nodded.

Teddy pranced in circles, looking up at Beatrice, his little brown eye filled with worry.

“I’ll carry the small dog.” Layton climbed into the saddle, Teddy under one arm. “The large one can run beside us.”

After an anxious glance at his mistress, Teddy circled two times and lay down.

“Traitor,” Beatrice mumbled into Cassius’s chest.

She trembled against him like a leaf, buffeted by a springtime gale. Her essence of soap and lavender wafted upward.

God help him.

Beatrice Fairfax was every bit as intoxicating as the finest brandy.

“Hold on, Beatrice. We ride.”